千羽鶴 (Senbazuru)
by Adepta Sororitas
Summary: It was like sheer magic: the way the light bounced off Levi's sapphire eyes, the way the small curve of his lips brought a long forgotten pounding in his chest, the way he said Eren's name made his hands tremble with so much need. AU.


千 羽鶴 (Senbazuru)  
flailingsanity

* * *

The first time Eren met Levi was when the snow first began to fall, when the endless, blue sky glowed white and diaphanous crystals fell like frozen tears. It was the start of winter, when the distant sunset signalled the last of autumn and the beginning of an icy sleep over the horizon. Already, the leaves were falling, decaying from a lush green to a husk brown; already, the flowers were fading, the gentle pink of a rose turning white as the snow began to breathe over the earth; already, the scent of life, of warmth, of a cosy past was dying, replaced by the slithery chill of the unknown, of the lonely, of the bitterness.

He was there, amidst the twinkling snowflakes, surrounded by sheets upon sheets of coloured paper, pale and shaking in the cold as figures and shadows brushed by him, oblivious.

His hands were struggling with the act of collecting the sheets together—fingers going blue and stiff as the cold racked up his form—striving to not let the dampness destroy them when the crinkle of shoes upon grass and dried leaves brought his attention forward.

Sapphire-blue eyes, light and gleaming in the coming dusk, gazed at him in quiet indifference. Black hair swayed lightly with the breeze, a small frown set upon an otherwise unconcerned face. The man was covered in a thick green hood, seemingly snug in the chill.

"H—help?" Eren coughed out, his breath frosting before his eyes and fading into nothingness. His hands were beginning to lose feeling, and more of the sheets were getting soaked and he couldn't lose them, not like this, not when—

A warm hand covered his and Eren blinked as the man slowly brought the sheets together, compiling them in a tight bundle. He looked at his once-freezing hands, felt the cold ebb away as the man brushed the hair out of his face, amusement now shining in his sapphire eyes.

"You know better than to sit here when it's getting dark." The man chided, and the voice felt achingly familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time—it resonated inside Eren like home, but it also echoed like a distant memory.

Eren stared as the man brought him up, coloured sheets now back in his hands—he distantly noted with satisfaction that they were just a little wet—and despite the height difference between them, Eren had no problem being held up by the shorter man.

As people passed by—their chatter and harried conversations began to fade into the distance—and the snow began to flurry faster, Eren realized he didn't even thank the man.

"Ah! I—I'm sorry. I'm Eren," he held out his hand, the blood pulsing warmth again, "thanks for helping me."

The man smirked, a little upward curve of his lips and Eren felt something long forgotten, almost foreign, began to pound in his chest. Suddenly, the wind wasn't so cold.

A warmer hand clasped his, and Eren felt the cold dying away. "My name is Levi."

It was on a cold day at the beginning of winter, when the snow first began to fall and the flowers began to die and when Eren finally began to feel something coming to life inside him that he met Levi, and it would change his entire life.

* * *

"Hey."

Eren blinked, turning his gaze away from the pavement and to Levi. The man wasn't looking at him, he was gazing forward, green hood swinging as they walked on. The snow was still falling, but it wasn't as fast and heavy as before, and Eren managed not to freeze to death by rubbing his hands together under his jacket, coloured sheets safe and warm in his pocket. The road before them was empty, dark cobblestone patterned with snow, unlit shops with the " _Closed_ " sign looking out from behind glass. A lone lamp shone in the distance, its orange glow like a little beacon in the night.

He and Levi were walking side-by-side, perhaps an inch's distance between their arms, and though he knew nothing about this man, he did not feel scared or in danger. In truth, he felt something like home burning in his belly, a tender flame of familiarity in Levi's voice, in his eyes and in the way his lips would curl ever so slightly into an amused smirk every time Eren tripped on nothing.

"What's so important about them?" Levi asked, blue eyes darting towards the pockets of Eren's jacket, where his coloured sheets were kept in warm refuge.

Eren paused, trying to figure out a way to tell him everything and tell him nothing—because there was something about the man, something that made Eren trust him, trust him enough not to ridicule Eren for his actions.

The shorter man noticed his silence, and the fact that Eren had slowed to a stop, and Levi turned. His expression held concern, the way his brows furrowed ever so slightly. "Eren?"

"I—I really can't tell you, yet." He managed to whisper out, the words echoing in the silence. The lone lamplight bathed them both in an eerie glow, and Levi almost seemed ethereal—almost ghostly, like a figment of his imagination.

Levi merely stared, his eyes locked with Eren's. He seemed standoffish, reserved and entirely out of the boy's reach but then the corners of his lips twitched, and an almost invisible smiled played across his face.

His blue eyes twinkled like glinting sapphires in darkness and Eren felt the painful throb in his chest tighten even more.

"Alright, Eren. Alright." And his words did not sound patronizing, or condescending. He seemed to understand Eren's reluctance, seemed to know how the boy felt about something as mundane as coloured sheets.

They continued on their way in comfortable silence, close enough to feel their elbows almost graze against one another. Eren didn't feel like he needed to inject conversation, to initiate something to lessen the awkwardness because there was no awkwardness. That feeling of _familiarity,_ of _rightness_ burned steadily in him and Levi seemed not to mind the silence as well.

It was like what Eren had felt a while ago. In fact, it was like what Eren had been feeling the entire time since he met Levi. He felt at home, at peace and incredibly warm.

When a large familiar building came into view, Eren felt his spirits die down. When they had reached the gate, he slowly turned to Levi, trying to hide his disappointment when he said good night.

Levi simply looked at the building, then back to Eren and he smiled that almost nonexistent smile, and his eyes shined and Eren felt molten warmth seep into his veins.

"I'll see you around, then?" Levi whispered, and Eren could not help the shiver that ran down his spine. He grinned and nodded, feeling his cheeks widen with excitement at the thought. His hands held on tightly to the coloured sheets in his pockets, feeling comfort at the feel of the paper.

"I'll see you." Eren responded before he turned to enter the building. He glanced back, and Levi was still there—like a sentry under the lonely glare of the street-lamp overhead, and his eyes urged Eren to enter.

He closed the door behind him, and he could not help the slight giggle that wormed its way out of his throat. He allowed himself a moment to relish the feeling of Levi's eyes on his, the way his smile curved his lips into something attractive, the way he said _I'll see you around_ and the way those words wrought lovely flames inside him.

He slowly bounded his way up the stairs, careful to keep his steps light to avoid waking the other occupants of the dormitory (and to avoid waking the very irritable warden, Mr. Bossard).

Eren quietly opened the door to his room, hearing the tell-tale snore of Connie, whose bed lay nearest to the door. He took off his shoes and padded like a spectre towards his bed, on the opposite end of the room and by the window.

As he sat down, and the spring under the mattress made a slight noise, Eren felt the tendrils of sleep and exhaustion tickling his senses. Beside his bed, Marco made a questioning noise as he sat up in his bed.

"Eren—that you?"

"Yeah, it's me. Sorry, go back to sleep." Eren answered, carefully taking out the coloured sheets in his pocket. He placed them gently on top of the table beside his bed, smoothing the edges before taking off his own jacket.

"No—o," Marco yawned, the slither of light that cut past through the spaces between the curtains highlighting his sleepy eyes. "problem. Hey, what's that?"

Eren smiled to himself, used to Marco's tendencies. "It's nothing, Marco. Hey, why don't you count backwards from one-thousand?"

Marco lit up—as much as he could lit up when he was obviously still half-asleep and not as sharp as he would be when he was awake—and grinned in the darkness. "Okay. One-thousand, nine-hundred and ninety-nine, nine-hundred and ninety-eight, nine-hundred and ninety-seven..."

Eren sighed contentedly as he settled himself beneath the blankets, snuggling his face into his pillow. His mind quietened and he smiled as he fell asleep to the lullaby of Marco's counting and the memory of Levi's smile.

* * *

Mornings during the winter always look beautiful: sunlight—gossamer and warm—bathes the icy-white snow in a cascade of soft gold; the barren trees like roots reaching for the sky as birds overhead flock to their branches, chirping melodically in repose. There's a soft breeze, cold against Eren's cheeks but he paid it no heed as he arranges stacks of coloured sheets on the table, having cleared the snow off the table courtesy of Mr. Bossard's tools.

He picked up a red sheet, folding it delicately as he starts a new set today. In the distance, he could hear the conversation bustling inside the dormitory. If he concentrated enough, he could almost hear Jean complaining that not all the greens in his room were in order and he would have to start all over again, could almost smell the food that Ms. Petra—the dormitory cook—was preparing. He closed his eyes, savouring in the feeling of calmness.

He opened his eyes. The snow had given way to whiteness that almost seemed to be endless, and the sunlight had paled to an eerily dim glow.

He blinked, feeling a drop of snow trickle down his neck from a branch overhead. Beyond the grounds, standing against the gate, was Levi.

"Good morning," Eren greeted, unable to hold back the smile that flit across his lips, his eyes finding rest on Levi's sapphire ones.

The man let one corner of his lips twitch up in a slight, crooked smile before he made his way towards the table, his green hood resting around his shoulders as he sat before Eren.

He looked beautiful in the sunlight: pale skin painted a dewy gold by the sunlight, black hair waving slightly with the wind, cheeks subtly flushing red in response to the cold, piercing blue eyes resting on Eren's.

That sweet, painful throb returned and Eren itched to paw at his chest, but he held back, letting the ache wash over his cold body.

"Good morning." Levi finally replied, taking a moment to peruse through the coloured sheets and on to the one in between Eren's fingers, folded into a diamond.

Eren looked down and back up to Levi's eyes and he smiled sheepishly. "I kinda need to make a lot of these."

A dark brow raised in question. "And what are these, to be exact?"

"Paper cranes." Eren answered, looking down to finish his work. Levi hummed in response, eyes still on Eren's fingers as he smoothly finished one crane. Setting the red crane aside, he placed it inside the basket he brought from his room, lowering it gently so that the wings would not crease.

Looking back to Levi, Eren stilled as the shorter man stared at him with an indecipherable look in his eyes, the blue taking on an almost dark hue. Eren swallowed, feeling that warmth, that rightness, return ten-fold.

"Why are you making paper cranes?" Levi asked, and Eren remembered his question yesterday. _What's so important about them?_

The man had asked something so personal, something that Eren held close to his heart. There was a reason he made paper cranes till his fingers ached, till his eyelids drooped, till he ran out of paper and had to go buy another pack the next day.

Usually, Eren disliked disclosing so much about himself to other people, especially strangers. Yet, there was something about Levi, something about the way he spoke, the way he looked at Eren, the way he behaved around Eren that burned with rightness.

"Have you heard of the Thousand Paper Cranes legend?" Eren asked instead, picking a blue sheet and starting to make another crane. Levi simply shakes his head.

"Well," Eren starts, folding one side over the other. "it's something my mother used to tell me when I was a kid."

Eren could almost remember himself, a decade ago, a boy of eight years with his mother in a quiet, dimly-lit room. His mother was folding sheets of coloured paper—blues, violets, greens, yellows, a kaleidoscope of colours—on his bed, his own eyes wide as he watched his mother turn one blue piece of flimsy paper into a crane. She had pierced the centre with a needle, pulled a string through it and had taped it to his ceiling. Whenever he laid in bed at night, in that time between falling asleep and slumber, he would look at the cranes above him, twirling gracefully in the air.

"She was the one who taught me how to make them." Eren continued, finishing the blue paper crane. He set it aside, before turning to face Levi. "She said that, if you make one thousand paper cranes in one year, you can wish for one thing—and that one thing will come true."

Levi nodded. Eren waited, quiet and a bit unsure, half-expecting Levi to laugh at him or scorn him for his stupid actions. Instead, the man simply placed his hands atop Eren's, his fingers resting over his, his own resting atop the coloured sheets.

"What are you wishing for, Eren?" He asked, and Eren grinned, a bit cheeky, a bit secretive. Levi wasn't pawing that secret from him, not yet. "I can't tell you that, you know. Someday, I might."

At this, Eren wouldn't be so hard-pressed to believe if Levi would just stand and leave. He looked down, seeing their fingers splayed atop each other, seeing tidbits of coloured paper through the gaps.

Levi pulled his fingers back, only form them to take out a coloured sheet, a purple one, and he looked straight at Eren. "How many do you need left?"

Eren couldn't help it. He smiles so wide and he feels something sting behind his eyes. "A lot. I need a lot."

And if, somehow, while Eren is teaching Levi how to fold the papers correctly, Levi notices that Eren rests his fingers against his longer than needed, he doesn't say anything about it.

* * *

Eren wakes up to the sound of someone shouting. He sits up, eyes wide and surprised, moonlight flitting through the gaps in between the curtains. Beside him, Marco continues to sleep, oblivious to the noise from outside their room.

Someone is shouting, and he could hear faint voices trying to console whomever it is that is making the noise. He hears a string of "No, no, no, no. Get away from me, get away from me!" until there was only silence.

Probably Sasha. Again.

He blinks, hands gripping the blanket tightly as the voices fade into nothing. He slowly lowers himself back to bed, bringing the sheets up to his chin. He vainly tries to imagine Levi's smile, but what he can only imagine before he falls into a fitful sleep is white rooms and blurry strangers.

* * *

His mother once said that if you made a thousand paper cranes, it has the power to grant you one wish. His mother once said that a girl once made a thousand paper cranes—a sick girl whose only wish was to know what it was like to grow up, grow old. To live.

A thousand paper cranes, a thousand tears and a thousand nights wishing for a chance at something so many people take for granted.

Hands rough with use, she made a thousand paper cranes and she made a wish.

But sometimes the rain ruins the papers, sometimes the hands hurt, sometimes the fear is too much.

Sometimes wishes don't come true.

* * *

Eren makes paper cranes on the table by the window, the snow pelting against the old glass. Across the room, flames crackled from the fireplace, warmth crawling up the floorboards.

Connie sits, huddled on the couch next to Jean, and they're talking—voices as silent mere whispers—the whites of their shirts stark in the midst of the clash of light and dark. Sasha is quiet, for once, half-asleep, half-dreaming as she lay like a dog on the rug before the fire, curled and content. Her auburn hair flow behind her like molten chocolate, gilded with flares of red-gold.

Across him, Marco sits. He has a pensive look on his face—not unlike what Eren has seen whenever Marco reads or when Marco looks out the windows—and like every other occasion, Eren resumes folding coloured sheets as he waits for Marco to sort out his thoughts.

Just as he is about to run out of the sheets he had brought from his room, Marco speaks up.

"I wish I could run away from here."

Eren stills, hand halfway into the paper crane-filled basket. He settles the basket by his feet. "Why?"

Marco shrugs, eyes still on the woodwork of the table, unseeing. "I…I just want to know what it's like to go to places. By myself. Without people looking at me like I'm going to break."

It makes sense, Eren thinks. Marco's always been a little too kind, a little too soft, a little too gentle. But it wasn't like Eren has any right to disparage Marco on who really is, when Eren was no better.

It makes sense, Eren thinks, because he knows what it's like. Knows what it's like when Ms. Petra adds more food on his plate than she does to the others. Knows what it's like when Mr. Smith doesn't let him join the Saturday games too much, when the roughhousing can get a little too _rough_. Knows what it's like when Mr. Bossard's eyes go from steel to soft when he catches Eren walking home just when the night's about to get late.

He knows what it's like to be treated like glass, and to have people expect him to break. And Eren knows, that sometimes childhood can be a little hurtful with the little-too-honest things children say, but he knows that this hurts more than when he used to get made fun of for being an orphan.

It's silent between him and Marco, and the snow continues to pelter.

The fire continues to crack.

The darkness continues to come.

* * *

Eren sees Levi again when winter's at its end. The sun shines through the grey clouds, the snow melting off the pavements, the cold dissipating as light pours down the grounds.

He's at the park, again. On the same table, sheets upon sheets all over the stone as he burrows his nose into the red scarf around his neck. He looks up when someone sits on the bench across him, and he sees blue eyes twinkling with amusement from beneath black hair.

"Hi. Nice seeing you here." Eren says, words muffled by the red cloth, but understandable nonetheless. Levi smiles a small smile, barely there, but it warms Eren nonetheless. Warms him more than the red scarf did.

His grin remains covered, but he could tell that Levi knew.

"Yes. How was your Christmas, Eren?" Levi asks, as his gloved hands come up to start folding a square sheet of cheery yellow paper. Eren wonders how his hands would look like without the gloves. To see those fingers fold the paper with supple, elegant movements…

"It was nice. Ms. Petra made some delicious stew, and Mr. Bossard even brought roasted pig. Sasha made a bit of a mess when she bumped into him while he was carrying it. It was really funny." Eren responds, chuckling at the memory of Mr. Bossard's face slack with terror as the pot he was holding threatened to fall out of his grip.

Levi responded with his own chuckle, a deep tenor echo that played Eren like a pianist tapping the well-worn keys of a beloved piano. He felt his cheeks burn, but when he glanced up and saw Levi look at him with fondness, with gentle blue eyes that spoke of calm nights and deep oceans, he realized it was okay. He was okay with it.

Eren's always wanted to visit the ocean.

* * *

There is the sound of scuffling. Distorted, disembodied voices distraught and worried. Eren blinks awake, sitting up as the white blanket tumble down his shoulders. He looks to the side, and the light from the window allows Eren to see that Marco was asleep. He looks to the door, squints through the darkness and sees Connie's form under his blanket, unmoving except for the slow rise-and –fall of his breathing.

There's more scuffling, something hits a wall and more voices come. Eren rubs sleep off his eyes and he stands, quietly making his way out of the room. He stands in the hallway, sees fluorescent light flooding out from a room down the hall, past the stairs—the girls' side of the sleeping quarters.

Curiousity and exhaustion battled inside Eren as he continued to stand in the dark hallway, curiousity winning out as he sees Mr. Smith run up the stairs and towards the lit room, back towards Eren.

He follows, bare feet on the wooden panels of the floor an almost silent _thud thud thud_. The voices get louder, the distraught clearer.

"Make it go away, please. Make it go away!" The words are laced with fear, echoed by a sob. It sounds familiar, sounds like Sasha. He hurries, concerned for his friend.

He makes it to the door, he catches a peek—Sasha in the corner, eyes wide with horror as she paws at her head as the nurse, Ms. Leonhart, tries to console her. The white of her uniform is all Eren sees before he finds himself staring up at Mr. Smith. His grey eyes widen in surprise.

"Eren! Why are you here? You shouldn't be awake at this time." He says, his surprised voice smoothing into a chiding tone. Eren stares at Mr. Smith's shirt, a blue pajama shirt. Behind him, he could hear Sasha crying, mumbling for something to go away.

"I…" Eren mutters, confused, worried, and a bit afraid himself. The fear must have reflected on his face, as he feels Mr. Smith's hand on his shoulder and the tall man kneels down, grey eyes locking with his.

"Eren, it's okay. Sasha's had a nightmare. She's been having them lately, but tonight was a pretty bad one. She'll be okay, Annie's attending to her. Don't worry, okay?" Mr. Smith's voice is gentle, a bit deep, reminds Eren of Levi, and he feels a bit centred, a little certain.

Eren nods, trusting in Mr. Smith's guidance. Sasha's cries have quietened and when Mr. Smith stood up, he sees Ms. Leonhart guiding Sasha to her bed. Teartracks still mar her face, but she looks a second away from falling asleep.

"See? She'll be okay. Time for you to get back to bed, alright?" Mr. Smith prods him to return to his room, walking beside Eren, his hand warm on his back. It's gentle, and it makes him feel a bit safer.

Eren gets to his room, and Marco and Connie are still asleep. Mr. Smith stands by the door, watches as Eren covers himself with the blanket. Mr. Smith comes into the room, stops next to Eren's bed.

He looks up, sees kind grey eyes and Mr. Smith says something, but he feels the exhaustion pull him down and all he can make out are shadows and the light glinting off Mr. Smith's blond hair.

"Get some sleep, Eren."

* * *

Eren sleeps.

He dreams of troubled screams.

He dreams of white strangers holding him tight, he dreams of fear, and horror suffocating him until the darkness wipes everything to black.

* * *

Levi comes again the next morning, sitting next to Eren as paper cranes surround him on the landing by the dormitory's entrance. His green cloak settle around him like gossamer silk, and it's not the first time Eren is mesmerized by the gentle way it clings to Levi's form.

It's quiet between them as they make paper cranes, and it's Levi who breaks it.

"So, how many do you need to make more?"

Eren grins. "Three-hundred six more. Almost there."

Levi cocks his head, eyes flitting to him for a moment. "Still not telling me what you're wishing for, Eren?"

Eren shakes his head in refusal, a grin on his lips. "Nope, not yet. It's a secret."

It's Levi's turn to shake his head, although an amused smile paints his lips. They continue to make more, the distant laughter of children playing across the street from the dormitory like the redundant chanting of cicadas, the bustle from upstairs like leaves crinkling in the wind.

"Hey, Levi…" Eren begins, feeling a bit embarrassed for the thought that popped into his head.

"Hm?" The dark-haired man continues to make paper cranes, but the set of his shoulders told Eren that he was listening.

"If…well, if you made a thousand paper cranes…what would you wish for?" Eren stammers out, eyes stubbornly refusing to meet Levi's.

Levi remains silent. Eren's heart plummets.

When the afternoon sky turns orange, and the purple begins to seep into the golden rays of the sun, Levi stands, stretching his legs. Eren piles up the cranes, push them into the basket and he stretches along side Levi.

"I'll see you around, then." Levi says, turning to Eren. Eren nods, giving Levi a small smile. "Yeah, thanks again, Levi."

Levi nods, pulling the hood of his cloak up. He turns towards the gate, but he looks back at Eren for a moment.

"It's a secret."

Eren grins.

* * *

Sasha's gone.

Connie tells him during dinner, when Eren spots the empty space between Ymir and Historia where Sasha usually sits.

"Mr. Smith says some doctor people took her. Take care of her or something." Connie mumbles in between bites. Eren stares at the soup in front of him, sees his own eyes staring back at him.

He looks up and looks around. He spots Mr. Smith, locks eyes.

Somehow the grey eyes seem a little less kind tonight.

* * *

From three-hundred six to two-hundred twenty-four paper cranes, and Eren and Levi continue to fold sheets and turn them into gorgeous winged figures.

They're at the park again, basket half-full with cranes as the afternoon whiles away. It's silent between them, but it was always comfortable silence between them.

Sometimes Eren would look up from his hands and see Levi looking at him, and sometimes he'd feel the Levi's boot settle against his, and sometimes they'd reach for the same sheet and he'd feel Levi's gloved hand against his bare fingers.

And sometimes Eren's inside would burn with the _rightness_ he feels.

As they continue to pile more and more paper cranes into the basket, Eren stops. He pauses and looks at Levi's hands.

With a kind of courage that Eren didn't know he possessed, he grabbed Levi's gloved hand. The man looks up, blue eyes curious.

"C-Can I?" Eren gestures to the gloves. Levi looks at him.

He nods.

Eren turns Levi's hand, palm-up, and he unbuttons the end that holds the glove close. He places his fingers under the leather, Eren looks up and looks for permission in Levi's eyes, sees acceptance in blue depths, and slowly pulls it off.

Levi's hand is pale, like the rest of him. It is unmarred, smooth. Flawless.

His skin is warm, pulsing with life and Eren settles his own tanned hand on Levi's. He feels Levi's fingers curl up, tangle themselves with Eren's. The silky touches send shivers down Eren's spine, warmth pools in between his legs and Eren feels his cheek burn.

But Levi continues to fondle Eren's hand, Even his nails are pretty…

"Eren!"

Marco's shout of recognition breaks the cocoon that surrounded Eren and Levi. Eren sits up, surprised and he slips his hand out of Levi's. Marco runs up to him, a little out of breath.

"Marco, hi. What's up?" Eren asks. Levi is looking at Marco, quietly.

Marco tells him that Ms. Leonhart wants physicals before dinner, and Eren nods. Marco runs off, leaving him alone with Levi.

"I guess I have to go," the man says. He smiles at Eren, reaching across with his pale bare hand to place it on Eren's cheek.

Eren feels like fire ignited.

Levi drops his hand, grabs his glove and leaves. Eren's heart trailing after him as he walks out of the park.

Eren remains standing.

* * *

That night, he dreams of fervent touches.

Kisses.

Levi's lips on his.

Levi's bare hands on his skin. On his cheeks, on his chest.

Levi's hands around his length. Smooth skin like a silk glove wrapped around him.

Levi's voice a whisper against his ear.

Levi's blue eyes dark with lust.

Eren wakes up just as he feels himself release, a quiet moan of want echoing in the silence of the room.

* * *

Sometimes, Eren would wake up to the sight of white strangers, and then he would wake up again to the sight of Mr. Bossard shaking him awake.

Sometimes, Eren would look out the window, and the light from the sunset would turn the white panels into iron grills.

Sometimes, Eren would look at his hands as he makes paper-cranes, and the tan skin would make it seem like it was covered in a thousand cuts.

Sometimes, Eren would look at Levi and sometimes, he'd feel that wishes don't often come true.

* * *

An uneasy weight settles on Eren's stomach as of late. It refuses to leave, and Eren's gotten around to even telling Ms. Leonhart about it. She makes him drink something, tells him it is nothing to worry about and he'll be okay.

The drink makes him feel sleepy, and he sleeps, but all he dreams is darkness.

When he wakes, the weight remains. Ms. Leonhart asks if he's okay.

He lies, and says that he is.

* * *

It happens during the beginning of spring. Spring is rebirth, a new beginning. Life began anew. Flowers bloom, pollen is in the air, and the dregs of the winter disappear. The sun is bright across the sky. There is a call to home in the air, a call to second chances.

He's in the park, on the same table he met Levi all those weeks ago. He settles on the bench, and he pulls out one sheet.

It's the last one.

Nine-hundred ninety-nine paper cranes.

Nine-hundred ninety-nine sheets.

Nine-hundred ninety-nine times he's wanted something so bad it hurts something fierce.

Levi comes, as always. He seems paler today, and the green of his cloak doesn't shine as much. Eren blinks, the sting of tears tight behind his eyes.

"It's the last one," Eren says. He holds a sheet of blue paper, a blue not unlike the gleam in Levi's eyes, the depth of the ocean. Eren finds it funny he has not noticed it before.

Levi is quiet.

Eren turns, pulls out the bags filled with paper cranes. He rips them all open, throws them across the field. A thousand colourful cranes litter across the green of the grass.

An ocean of wishes, colours and fears.

The tears in Eren's eyes finally trickle down his cheeks. It's funny, and it's not. It's confusing, and it makes sense. He wants to laugh, and he wants to cry.

Levi remains quiet.

A sob crawls out of Eren's mouth. Why hasn't he noticed it before?

The yellow paper-crane, like the shine of Mr. Smith's hair.

The brow-red one that reminds Eren of the tumble of Sasha's hair.

The green crane, that shined so similarly to Levi's cloak.

Eren's knees give way and he falls, finally breaking down.

* * *

Dormitories turn into hospitals.

Windows turn into cells.

And wishes turn to dust.

* * *

"Eren." Levi finally speaks, kneeling next to him.

Eren's stopped crying, feels like he's cried everything out. There's only a numbness that lingers, that promises to dull the constant ache, the constant pain.

"Eren." Levi whispers again, his breath tickling the lobe of Eren's ear. He's so close, so close that if Eren moved just a bit, he'd feel Levi's lips.

Eren turns to him. On the ground, in the tiny inch of space between them, is the last blue sheet.

"Eren." He looks up, sees the sadness in Levi's blue eyes. "Remember when you asked what I'd wish for, if I made a thousand paper cranes?"

Eren doesn't reply. He doesn't need to. He's always know that Levi knows. Levi knows everything. Always had.

"I'd wish for the same thing you wish for."

And just like that, Eren feels the last of his walls crumbling and he feels the pit swallow him whole.

He grabs the blue sheet, and with shaking hands, slowly folds it into his last paper-crane.

He sets it in between them, the thousandth paper-crane.

The words of his mother reverberate in his mind, and he closes his eyes for a moment, feels the resignation coming up like a wave, promising to drown him in its waters.

He opens his eyes, and he rushes forward.

He tastes warmth on Levi's lips. He tastes life. He tastes a new beginning.

A breeze picks up just as Eren pulls away. The wind blows the blue paper-crane away, pulling with it a great many others.

A cascade of a thousand paper-cranes paints the sky in a flurry of colours. All for a wish that will never come true, for a dream that will remain a dream.

He sits back, looks into Levi's eyes and he makes his wish.

* * *

 _I wish you were real._

* * *

 **AN: Just to clarify a few things: (1) Yes, Levi was just a hallucination that Eren created in his head. (2) Yes, the dormitory isn't, in fact, a dormitory. It's a sanatorium, and Eren warped his surroundings into something that didn't terrify him (the white strangers, Erwin, being the ward nurses, Annie being the psychiatrist, Auruo as the sanatorium director). (3) Eren knows, deep down, that none of what he was experiencing was real-that he was creating a world where he wasn't afraid, but hallucinations are strong and sometimes they cloud our own reality. (4) Yes, I'm shit and I'll never be able to write a happy fic ever again.**

 **Lastly, as a psychology major taking his Masters, I will admit that this is not an accurate portrayal of an individual who is psychologically impaired. I took a few liberties to romanticize some aspect of the disorder, but I assure you, that I do not mean to demean or harm the integrity of psychiatric facilities and the massive help that they provide for these individuals, and the dignity of these individuals as well. Regardless of their disorders, they are human beings, and they have the right to be treated as such.**


End file.
